The Coldest Heart
by A Perfect Paradox
Summary: This is dedicated to Rose, aka Tom Riddle. Me loves you!


-1He wrestled with telling her all night… on one hand, no one was supposed to know. The only person he could really trust to keep the secret was himself; he could hold up to any professor with a slick smile and flattery. He had Slughorn around his pinky finger, and would use the information source wisely. Cursing the fact that Dumbledore was on his tail, he walked himself into the Slytherin common room- past the gossiping girls, past the rollicking boys… he didn't want anything to do with them. He, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was better than that kind of filth. He was above houses… he was above everyone.

_Except her._

She, with her lithe smile, caressing limb, cynical laughter… she had won him- heart and soul. Or at least what he had left of them. He loved her as much as he could love anything- he wanted to possess her, own her… but she was too free a spirit for him to control. He needed her free, a little touchstone to reality as he went off to conquer the world. His rock.

Her fingers shook every time they collided with his, her lips trembled each time she kissed him, her soul rocked as they lay together in the pitch black dark. She was always moving, always continuing on… never stopping so far as to contemplate the past. Always the future, always. She was so bright, to bright to stand with… his torch in the darkness, his love.

Tom clenched his hands together as he sat in front of the fire, leaning forward, jaw clenched. No one ever saw him in this state- he was always calm, cool, sneering, collected. Absolutely terrifying. Now, though, he was even more frightening, and it wasn't because he was calm at all. His whole body shook with his decision, and people began whispering at his sudden state of chaos.

His muscles tensed and his teeth ground together; it was nothing like the Tom Riddle most of Slytherin house knew. Tom knew he was giving himself away, but he couldn't control his contortions. He wanted to hex someone, hurt someone… he needed it out of his system. Then maybe he could make the decision that could potentially cause his downfall.

And then a cool hand was on his feverish cheek, and he was at peace. Her body slipped itself on top of his, and like a salve, she healed him.

"Shhh," she murmured. The rest of the Slytherin common room turned away, slightly embarrassed to see this public display of affection. "What's wrong?" Tom opened his mouth, which was dry as parchment.

_I'm going to become the most powerful dark wizard in the world. I'm going to split my soul into seven equal pieces, and live forever. I'm going to be king. Will you be my queen? _That's what he wanted to say. But it didn't come. He couldn't… not after months, _years_ of work to perfect him plan. He came first.

"Nothing," he whispered, running a spindly finger down her cheek. "I was just anxious to see you." She smiled and laid her messy brown hair (and it was so perfect, always so perfect) on his chest… he was sure she could hear his heart beating far too rapidly for his norm, and yet she said nothing, just calmed him. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him; he tried to absorb her essence into his senses, but it was too powerful. He closed his eyes, wishing that the moment could last forever.

They stayed there until the fire died… watching. Waiting.

He never did tell her.

_**Years Later…**_

There were curses getting hurled every which way; he himself, Lord Voldemort, was flinging out Crucio's at speed. His band of Death Eaters were under attack; like bullets, their black cloaks furled out behind them as they ran at the enemy. He had been ambushed by the idiotic 'Order of the Phoenix'; Dumbledore's foolish group of suicidal men and woman who were determined to stop him. He nearly rolled his eyes at the thought. _Stop me?_

They were fighting in a muddy field; it was dark, too dark for any Muggles to see… they Order had ambushed them from an area of brush near the far end, and now the fight was sprawled across the entire field.

There was a young redheaded woman who was quite deadly in the center of the field, along with a black-haired man who was just as good as her. They made an awesome pair, deflecting his minions like ants. Voldemort pointed his wand at the woman and preformed a wordless body-bind. Her limbs snapped together, and her wand dropped to the ground. The man standing next to her wordlessly looked up into Voldemort's eyes from across the field, a burning hate writhing though him, throwing a hex towards him (which he blocked). Voldemort simply smirked, tossing his hair rather nonchalantly. He still had his looks, after all… the only thing that had really changed about him were his eyes. They had transformed from a regal green to an glorious red, though he new not why…

He mentally sent a message through his very powerful Legilimens skills to his Death Eaters: _Apparate away, and we'll regroup. The order is no match for us… but we must strike while the plate is hot. Away!_

He watched as slowly they disappeared, each hooded figure leaving the deteriorating Order in shook and anger. As he himself began to Disapparate, he turned to give them all a sneer… and that's when he saw her.

The Order members were gathering their casualties, but most of them were standing behind the man from before; his black hair was messed up, nearly windswept… but there was no wind that day. Voldemort didn't care about him, though… the only person he saw was the woman held captive by the man behind him. Her hair was matted, and there was a gag stuffed in her mouth; her body sagged, and it seemed that the Order had to drag her very soul to get her here before him.

But she was here. And her presence cut across him like a knife. He felt his hand at his wand, and his hex was out before he could think. The man was blown into bits and pieces, just missing the woman… the Order members screamed and shouted, but the woman had the good sense to run away from them as fast as her legs could carry her. Voldemort saw her tear out the gag and shout out to him: "Tom!"

Her heart, that had been burning with longing, stopped cold. No one had called him by that name in years.

The last time he had seen her was months ago… they had gotten into a bitter argument, and she had wanted to know exactly what he did when he went out at night. Tom thought it better for her to think he was having an affair than for her to know the real truth. But now he knew he could not shield her from the Order forever with her oblivious.

She threw himself into his arms, burying her head into his chest. The Order members looked surprised and yet deeply frightened. As they Apparated away, Tom murmured to the woman in his arms, "I missed you, Rose."


End file.
